


Every Rose Has Its Thorn

by JumpingJuJu



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Anniversary, Engagement, M/M, One Shot, Plot Twists, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 11:56:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingJuJu/pseuds/JumpingJuJu
Summary: As Phil prepares a big meal for Dan in celebration of their tenth anniversary, the reader of this one shot becomes increasingly aware of the real situation at hand.





	Every Rose Has Its Thorn

**Author's Note:**

> hi I haven’t really edited it and it’s not what I usually like to put out but I hope u guys enjoy!

The crisp, swirling, London air was bitingly barren, even for late November. Phil noticed this as he dragged his aching feet over the jagged cobblestone walkway that led up to his latest apartment.

    A light dusting of white freckles had begun to inch down from the sky during the last few minutes of his walk, a blindingly stark contrast against his dark hair but laughably similar to the porcelain skin that trails of goosebumps covered.

    He’d left his phone at the house, and he found himself wondering what the time was only to remember the triviality of that matter and how little he truly cared. As one hand fumbled with the keys and unlocking a door he was still learning to use, the other gripped a bouquet of a dozen blood red roses. His subconscious grasp was so tight that his impossibly white hand paled even further. When a single thorn popped through the stupidly cheap plastic wrapping the stems, his skin was suddenly pierced, shaking him out of the arcane spell he was under.

    “Shit.” He mumbled this to himself quietly, incidentally managing to get the door open at the same time. The impact thrust his body forward, causing him to drop the few belongings he was holding.

    The wind shook the few trees surrounding the apartment. Phil took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. He crouched down to examine the roses, shaking the slushy droplet off their fragile petals.

    Tonight was his tenth anniversary with Dan. His best friend, his soulmate, his everything. Phil had gone grocery shopping the night before, and was prepared to make chicken marsala, Dan’s absolute favorite meal.

    He stumbled into the apartment, brushing the cold water off his coat. He kicked off his shoes and headed towards the table the couple always ate at. It was bare, save for the two candles they’d exchanged at their last anniversary; it had become a tradition of sorts. This year Phil had opted for pumpkin, a happy medium between Dan’s love for spicy scents and Phil’s adoration of more natural smells. 

    Dan wouldn’t be home for a while. Phil truly had all the time in the world, but in the bottom of his heart he felt something he hadn’t felt in a while, a spark of excitement, a flicker of encouragement.

    Phil walked into the kitchen, running his miniscule wound under a stream of warm water. He carefully wrapped a band aid around the cut, not wanting his stupid mistake to somehow ruin this meal.

    Over the course of two hours, motivation stirring in his blood, Phil prepared a dish that came out so well it even surprised.

    “Dan would love this.” A small smile spread across his face as he grew happier than he’d been in a long time.

    Phil set two loaded plates adjacent to each other on the mahogany table. He dimmed the lights and struck up the candles, causing an almost overwhelming ballet of vanilla, balsam, cinnamon, and apple to passionately dance in the air.

    He finally checked his phone. 7:32, the clock read, its white light lighting up his face.

    Phil peeked out the window. It had grown quite dark, and the once watery snow had now thickened to the point where it would be useless to attempt to just dust the snow off the glass.

    He began to eat. He didn’t bother to try and taste the array of spectacular flavors; one becomes immune to those feelings after a while.

    Instead, he closed his eyes.

    The vanilla swayed under his nose, strongly resembling the lotion Dan adored so dearly. The off-white carpet underneath his holey socks was scratchy but oddly soft, just like so many of Dan’s favorite sweaters. The exotic spices from the chicken marsala reminded him of how much Dan loved to travel, how he would go to the ends of the world and back in a heartbeat. That last though began to ring overpoweringly in his ears as suddenly his senses were overloaded because oh, God, why did he have to go so **soon?**

    Phil doesn’t let himself cry anymore. He can’t even process what happened, so why try to feel?

    And yet his blood boiled. Damn the universe, god _damn_ it for taking away Dan.

    Phil pushed back his chair, somberly watching the candles as they began to burn out. Two small flames continued on by the time Phil was out the door, those same roses in that same hand.

    Phil trudged over to the cemetery. Despite only ever being able to bring himself to visit twice since it was implanted, Phil could spot Dan’s grave from a mile away.

    The frozen ground crunched beneath Phil’s feet. He dragged himself to the gravestone, kneeling on top of the ground where he knew just a few feet down his soulmate rested.

    Phil watched his breath swirl in the air. It vanished so quickly, he noticed, tracing a gentle finger over Dan’s name.

    Phil ran a hand over the dead flowers that littered the grave. He couldn’t bring himself to tear them away. Phil unwrapped the roses, those beautiful roses that somehow had remained in mint condition. Phil poked 12 little holes through the tough ground, filling each one with a rose. As he did so, he couldn’t help but attribute something of Dan’s to each one.

    His smile.

    His dimples.

    The graceful little curl that hung off the side of his head.

    The reassuring way he held Phil when it seemed like the world was falling apart.

    His passion.

    His piano playing (God, what Phil would give to hear the tapping of those keys just one more time).

    That skin that never stopped shining.

    His humor, the ability to crack a joke and make everyone smile.

    His intelligence.

    Holding his hand.

    Waking up next to him.

    Being in love with him.

    “I love you, Dan,” Phil’s voice cracked as a foreign tear slid down his cheek. He was never one for words, especially when something like a hug said so much more. And yet he went on, a beautifully unpoetic jumble of words spilling out of his chapped lips. “I miss you, I miss you so much. I hope you’re seeing the world, I hope you have a dog. I hope you’ve found a home you love, I hope you remember me. I’ll never forget about you, Dan. A moment doesn’t pass where you’re not on my mind.”

    With those last words, Phil’s right hand reached over to his left ring finger. He twisted off the beautiful band Dan has proposed to him with just a year ago. Phil looked at it one last time. As he ran a shaky finger over it, he kissed the gravestone.

    “Bye, Dan.” He dropped the ring behind the wall of roses and began to make his way back home.

**Author's Note:**

> lol sorry I hope it made you semi emotional! please leave a comment if you enjoyed it and would like to see more work for me :) this was my first work so I’m a little nervous.. thanks guys :) <3


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